


Party Pillage

by NullBubby



Category: Kirby (Video Games)
Genre: 100 percent reliable narrator marx, Social Anxiety, and reading it semi-publically, stealing the diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NullBubby/pseuds/NullBubby
Summary: Time for a celebration!Disregard that no one even knows what for, there's a less than suitable backup in store.
Kudos: 5





	Party Pillage

Organized, they came. The tiny door somehow accommodated to them all, shorter than some could even reach from standing position, they filed through, bumbly, talkative, colorful, their outfits soon flooded the inescapable position just before the many rows of benches and chairs lining all but the front of the room. A chatter, mixed tones, inexpressive faces, possible wonders of so many forms seen lately and almost never, the rowdy trail didn’t end viewing from a standstill. Traces of energy, they brought, whether in their voices, attitude, or the sole tacit greeting accumulated by all one.

He gulped, nervousness trickling the path down his face soon to be overtaken by an unstoppable army of sweat and embarrassment. Never, he repeated to himself, did it end—past a few wasn’t easy, but his eyes weren’t the best suited to their host’s welling nauseousness.

A moment pressed on, then a trio of female voices arrived near the entrance, the astonishment at last welcome still uncertain after so much time, even when disregarding her professional sense of attire mixed with natural appearance. Dyed, doubless, but it was hard not to stare so excessively.

“‘Ay, Dee!”

He internally stumbled and fell, outer appearance drawing only a stutter or two as balance nearly warped itself out of comprehension. Behind stood the limbless jester, his almost unsettling smile still unfazed as he continued bobbing.

“Y-yes?”

“Cha’ doin’ just standin’ around here? You sitting with us or what?”

Marx glanced off to the side before letting him a response, his pupils retracting with an unforgettable reminder as his mouth hung ajar.

“Wait...”

His hands unknowingly set themselves to rest, and he peeked toward his audience’s apparent shoes.

“I’m the announcer here.” Indifference, and they both sat silent, somewhere beyond the capsule of quietude around both solely, a whispering crowding. “Uh, not like you didn’t, of course...”

“Uh huh. Hey, when’re we done here? Heard something ‘bout a little ‘trip’ was planned today with me and Mags, and I wasn’t planning on missing out.”

A quick glance to the side, the extremely brief scan for the evident blue robes proven ineffectual before even letting the faint reminder back to himself.

“You—”

“I don’t know,” he said hastily.

Out played a short rhythm from arbitrary taps of his shoe, soon evolving as he sidestepped toward the wall to knock a tip of his hat against it for sound indistinguishable from Gooey dancing with his tongue outstretched fully, to say the least. Blankness and boredom plastered over one’s face, he returned before the confused gaze without a trace he’d done anything in the first place.

“Okay.”

A subtle nod, then he bounded off the miniature stage and to the sidelines, somewhere beside the bench section, his usual tone soon breaking a relative silence among the crowd. Annoyance and scolding, teasing, playful mocking, and both victims of his own habitual procedure were quite evident, the least about him telling of some greater misfortune, soon, should something not be done to cool her down. Neither had seen each other to his knowledge, but it was a safe bet assuming it wouldn’t be the greatest idea letting their own troubles run amok through the rest of dwindling conversation.

And again, so many’s patience declined, the most carefree jester of the room and far beyond’s refusal to so much take a step back not appearing the best plan for any at the moment. Just... a few more minutes, and maybe he’d he alright. Most, if not all were much, much more tolerable than the more energetic puffball, which was quite alright, but him alone still erupted more than enough disturbance to not fret even a moment about how a sole certain wizard managed to tolerate him so long.

“Hey!” came a playful voice from behind. He nearly tripped over himself, stood perfectly still.

“G—What?”

She inspected him from foot to cap, indifference prevalent in both as intolerance rapidly emerged before them. Tall to many, yet she never came off as even moderately threatening with such an attitude.

“I just wanted to tell you Ribbon couldn’t make it today. Said she was busy.”

Laughter, and he struggled not to take a glance at the evident source of so many sporadic managements. Again, a brief beat of footsteps, but most others didn’t even seem to mind.

“Okay...”

“And I think Meta, too. He didn’t tell me why.”

Was he there, actually? It wasn’t easy to tell from such a brief glance so early, and a certain... unforgettable face distancing all his other thoughts at the time. Maybe _that_ was the case, actually.

Whimpers grew until finally, after so long of any else’s declaration of intolerance, she’d had it—a first encounter with likely so much preparation and forward information, yet it was still reasonable to hold such a reaction. A single statement and all but one’s eyes drew quickly, though she didn’t even mind. Some retribution for so much haughtiness was all wished for, and he’d be lying if said he didn’t briefly receive the same distant longings.

“Whad’d I do?” he whined.

A sigh from across the room, and her eyes winced, a response likely attempted so many times in the single second following his cuddly expression. Brief, still, but the moment dragged on much longer than any hoped for, especially provided the lack of longed dismissal reserved to the only other he could’ve possibly hoped hadn’t come at all.

Insolence as he stepped up from position, his regular smile taking control until the saving grace of the faint bell grew upon the environment. Another exhale from some else, and many took their positions unaccompanied on a chair or bench, save a duo and trio excepted, mumbling and signs of weariness drawn out in most as they stared forward at the last dwindlers. Faintest, visible, her wink gardened his hopes of lasting any more than a few seconds onstage, then Adeleine took the last seat before some indistinguishable figure, according to peripheral gaze.

From an expected corner came an familiar and quite audible mumble, though he quickly shut himself upon noticing a blank glare given from across. At least, from what could be told of the situation—a flick was no more effective than threat of solitude for someone such as himself. The brief moment her stiff eyes lingered, he thanked the highest orders of whatever let the only vision of her masked as an energetic pink.

And finally, the time had to come. Stares drew evident, gazes slouched, a few eyes rested a moment, and some other tongue wrapped itself around a poster on the wall, its incredible disturbance against silence noticed by all one in front of the blank stand. All around, indifference prevailed as another mocking expression soon silenced itself... then it stuck. Impossible to so much comprehend rivaling for so many insentient species of rock, his face couldn’t budge, a due, unexpected, yet thankful reminder presented in her wave alone.

Maybe it couldn’t be so bad, after all.

“Uh...” His voice traveled maybe a few seats down the aisles, and Marx was quickly cut off from another interjection. A tapping, then that quited too, and he finally gave up and leaned against the robes beside him. “H-hello? Is this—”

Out emerged a static incomparable to any but technology’s, and several winced at the hard stress against auditory glance. His apologetic face grew still after a few moments, though he and all else knew it was worthless.

“Hey guys,” he said weakly, voice correctly spread from the speakers beside. “Uh...”

Of course there couldn’t have been prepared a script beforehand, too. Behind, beneath, beyond, it didn’t lay anywhere relative himself or anything of the room. Futile, yet he couldn’t prevent his eyes from trailing some indistinguishable force as even they began to sweat a moment.

“I’m—we’re! Yes... we came here because...”

“‘Cause someone forced us—” His obviously toned down voice quickly diminished as he frantically bounced back up, bewildered at the attention being given.

“We’re h-here because...”

Frantic attempts were made to calm his nervous peeking around the room, none in particular managing any more than an internal whimper out of him, then came a sudden, inexplicable return of focus. Indistinguishable among the crowd so large as it had become, but the temporary refuge in seeing her relaxed arms and friendly smile reassured him, just a little bit. Ability of any sort had been since tossed already, though the shelter from that mere glace was quite enough.

“Theres this... uh, anniversary. I think.” One more inspection, just in case the paper had flown rogue or wound up in the hands of some other audience member, but it was a worthless effort. Behind the trembles, it had to be.

His hands wobbled the microphone softly, a single moment passed, and the dawn of lacking haven in unknown expectation finally set. A reminder and a sudden rowdiness of himself, and he couldn’t help but glance back for another moment of assurance.

“But no one gave me any information on what to, uh... I guess talk to you guys about, so...”

Then came the shiver-inducing reminder just ahead, ignored so long as a minute or so, then displeased and dispersed upon the immediate noticing of one. Again, her pale face glared deep into his form, limpness indetectable in any of her. Equally light eyes, they shifted nowhere, and droplets continued to replicate in moments as her orderly position atop the chair, hands perfectly aligned with one another, on each other, led a standstill, then it came to all. Her and else, the stares grew evident, down to the littlest impatience demonstrated in casual readjusting of seating position of even the most carefree ones he’d come to know... but they knew something as well as he.

A little longer... and that’d be it. Struggle through, just a moment, one more... passed, and it’d be alright getting by. Silence and regularly soothing sweetness of the air, a clack of himself and the airy outside, and the noise lashed against him twice over.

Another nudge and his face ignited, the familiar figure back beside him, casual indifference taken over his unusual face at the moment. Bored was all could be said about him without other instruction.

“Dee.”

“Y-yes?” he squeaked.

“We good to go or not?”

Broken sweat, almost a tear from a determined impostor adjacent his eyes, and his own vision shifted and squirmed. “Uh...”

A heavy sigh came, and another indistinguishable shade of blue joined the other two as his eyes nearly shut. Few words were spoken, but that singular other voice to have joined was quite enough to soothe just the slightest worries of the lowest ordeals unimaginable, faint, smooth, yet of decent effect. Off the stage, one went, and beside him remained only a cape and set of robes, dangling beside his squint at the outside world.

“Hey, uh...” His hand reached toward one of his ears and lingered. “I have this. If you were interested, I guess.”

Short and relatively thin, the book rested in his grasp, presented to him solely as likely all others anticipated next arrival in divergent attitudes, but the lack of any noise was good enough for him. The eyes stuck to the situation before all, but at least one other felt to stand beside him, a ready attitude as always.

“Thanks...”

It was more than odd, though fine enough as it was. Company departed with a mere wave and sorry expression, but... that was certainly something, at least. Doodled, disorganized, it didn’t appear of greatest quality overall, but it wouldn’t be the most thoughtful plan discarding it, either. Mixtures and meddling... how did he ever get assigned such a role...

Almost stumbling, the crude notebook was set down atop the stand, wobbling as it was adjusted to be seen from his own stature. Maybe suited to himself in size, if given a rough estimate—perfect for if he’d ever decide to follow along in the creative styles. Never intended, but... just figure out what it was, already. Blankness... then past the first, second, third pages, and nothing resided, save for an occasional scrap of sapped moisture dried atop a corner or two. More and more, the overwhelment rose and exploded until realization finally skipped into imaginary grasp.

It... really wasn’t the greatest idea to be looking through that, but many were expecting a show. A certain few wouldn’t lay too keen on a waste of time, despite himself having no part in organization of the meeting at all—a person to blame was all some seeked at times.

The final page turned, and it all stood, messy, colorful, and full, imagery of many adorning the crayon-infested world of the page just before him. Maybe... himself, was that? And Susie, even? Oh, alright...

“Uh...” He stumbled over a few words, mumbles occasionally let loose as he twiddled his hands. A slight tingling came under his bandana, another silencing order of gazes ahead, and maybe a sigh of discomfort. “I think... yeah.”

“Could you speak up?” the same voice shouted from the back of the room.

Some coughing, distanced, and he refused a mutter out of himself again. Just... say it.

“So, uh, I think this... a bunch of writing or something. About us, I think. And...” The first words ahead came to attention, and he couldn’t tell if the wince came of subconscious refusal to intrude on the absent puffball’s personal notion or the sheer illegibility accomplished in what could’ve passed as a name, number, or any else. “This is, uh, kind of... hard to read. B-but I’ll try my best. Okay.”

Again, it had to be? Tried so hard, so many times, so frequently and futilely, a peep couldn’t escape, and the awful doodle of his barely recognizable form loomed ahead with pathetic knowingness. Tiny, yet among the near perfect attendance of the duplicated crowd sketched onto the page, it couldn’t be helped but lay obligation to silence’s desperate grasp.

“Ah, need some help?”

Fine enough.

“I’m like, an expert on this stuff. A perfect enscriptor or whatever of even the most in-readable things. Gimme a look and I’ll translate it.”

His hand raised limply and stuck toward the crowded paper, and more scuttling arose. He tiptoed, hat hanging lopsided as his sole audience atop the platform stared on to several interchangeable shades of brown—shoes, planks, it all molded together under such compression of all faces’ direction.

“Uh huh,” he muttered. “Alrighty, get outta here. Siddown. I’ll take it from here.”

Thankful more so than anything—pleas finally given proper assessment—his hands shifted together as the world before strolled by without him, every color passing by with only a faint blurriness to recall knowledge of existence. Rows down, and several eased their eyes toward, Taranza first, then some others, indistinct, and a seat was provided without ability to let opinion. The gentle heat of something so calm, soothing, thoughtful enough to prevent him from smacking into the wall, but at least there was someone looking out for him.

Marx muttered something about leaving and bounced his weight between shoes. “Alright, any volunteers for first opinion? Don’t expect to be seein’ Kirbs hating on any of you or anything, so I’m pinning one of you if ya’ ain’t giving me a victim.”

“Why does _he_ have to be the one talking?” one of the priestesses began, quietly. Too similar in voices, his head couldn’t handle the minimal processing necessary to pinpoint which one. “The Dee was more tolerable than him.”

Another one shushed her, and an energetic licking came from the side of the room, edging closer to the stage every passing moment as the blob adventured forward, beyond nonexistent points of conflict of extinct distinction in the wall’s color and threat of an enforced nap should he stall even a moment. Patting, then appeared steps of gradual impatience beyond the ahead bench.

“Okie dokie, my turn. From the top.”

He glanced through the audience, an obvious attempt made to convey his bouncy nature while the book lay still, devoid of temporary life fulfilled by even the merest set of eyes upon its indiscretion. Hopped, then fixed with all else’s views, he only set himself back to the position set up moments prior after passing eternities of blankness.

“First up! Looks like Taranza over here’s getting a special treatment today."

All directed their focus toward the honest figure positioned in the front row, exhausted, evidently due to his preoccupied hands and rested head atop one. Immediately upon his name being called, he snapped back upright and fiddled with two of his hands, the rest being seated out of view for the time being as Marx let some empty moments fly.

“‘Kay, uh...” Shuffling ahead. “Guess I’ll just read this off or somethin’, I dunno.”

He obnoxiously cleared his throat several times, soon noticing the expression of the already bothered, and he stepped back up.

“‘I like Taranza because he has a lot of hands and can do a lot of things at the same time.’”

More stares and dreamed whispers, silent expectation of the finishing tone from their presenter, though within moments, he let loose a face confused as most else, if only more exaggerated than the slight squints and molds of some others.

“What? That’s all it says.” His eyes dropped. “So what can ya’ do with all those extra hands, eh? Bet’chu could get in some special... ‘alone time’ with all that you got there, huh?”

“Marx,” came a simple, yet annoyed voice from beside, “cut it out.”

“But why?”

A single glance to the side was all it took to reveal the notion for actually shutting himself, for once, and the silence was soon dragged back to the quiet mumbling from just prior. No matter how much of a friend those two could’ve become—at least appear, to be honest with himself—there were certainly times where a simple prank could go far beyond a mage’s tolerance.

“Alright, alright, who’s up next...”

Despite all the momentary notice absorbed, neither of the former attention-hoarders seemed bothered in the slightest for more than the interminable boredom, which he couldn’t quite vow to himself regardless of his relentless, but mostly futile attempts at distracting himself even a sliver. Just a little, he could maybe tell himself, the time would come eventually, one way or another, a joke or seven passed out, and an endless barrage of lookers directed toward him... a few moments later, and the destruction would rain upon himself, yet all utility under mind’s reign would inevitably turn to futility long before then.

“Ooh, looks like we got a special guest coming up.”

By the exaggerated annoyance resided within the tone used, there served no enigmatic presence to the soon burial his temporary company’s face into his hand, quite clearly out of exasperation more so than a hint of shame. Again, his own face couldn’t resist the dart toward him, though all to behold at the moment lay an otherworldly egg seated so calmly moments before.

“We gotta little special for sweet Maggy up next, uh huh.”

Something impersonating a grunt, irritated, and his eyes slowly peeked out from the hard force against them. “Please never call me that again...”

“Bet you’re just _dying_ to know what your little puffy thinks of you. I won’t lie—I’m kinda feelin’ the same on that.”

A soft groan, then he spoke again, the burden of his own consciousness too needy to understand a word of it.

“Sheesh, fine. Just...” An interlude of mumbles. “‘I wish I knew how to make magic like Magolor. I think it’s nice he can do that and it’s nice to see.’”

“Is that actually what it says?”

“You tell me, I’m not the one who wrote a whole second sentence here.”

Shaking his head, his sigh echoed through the moment it remained after leaving him. Whether disturbed more due to attitude or overall content of speech, it didn’t affect his perception of the ongoing predicament in the slightest. More than could be said for the same few of earlier, but hopefully they were at least mentioned some time soon.

“Okay, now we got like Blobby here or somethin’, what’s-his-name.”

Gooey didn’t budge from his standstill of a staring contest with the unnoticable crease of the wall, despite the growing whisper of frigid waves expanding new territory. Doubtless his guess on who was responsible was correct, but there wasn’t exactly anything to be done about such a thing. So many didn’t mind, and it was alright.

“‘Gooey is my bestest friend because he likes to eat with me. He likes apples—”

A gaping tongue and pair of googly eyes flopped out. 

“—and always eats them with me when I ask. When I want a friend, I can go to him and he doesn’t mind. I don’t see him often but that’s okay. I like it when I do.’”

Scents of silence daunted the seats and benches, confusion only to be interrupted upon the distinct bounding of relatively the same position seen a moment ago. Hops, spins, flung drops of spit, he danced in place, eyes revealing their greatest misunderstanding of the situation received by such a longshot that it was impossible to tell whether he thought he was alone at all. Seconds flew by as he succeeded in odd mesmerisation comparable only to live definition of an enigma, and as suddenly as he’d begun, his face was nudged right back to the indistinguishable depression of the wall, silent, motionless, and devoid of hypnotic ability seen in the clear pattern of before, already disregarded as blankness strutted to its place.

“Uh...” Several turns came toward him, the opposite side, their additional inattentive, squishy audience, and he dropped even neutrality, if only a moment. “Moving on.”

Blazes near the strength of his own physicality thrashed ahead for a moment, closely regarding any prior justification had for so much his head hurting, and the soon export of himself was inevitable. Soon enough, it’d be... just hopefully, if anything could be done for the possible side threats alongside, just keep it toned down, at least prolong the nonexistent silence of his lacking noise added to the tremor of some others.

“Alright since y’all over there kinda actin’ up or whatevs I’ll be doin’ ya’ as a group. You’re together on here, anyway.” Three stares of irritation, calm assurance, and indifference sealed the area he stared on at. If lucky, they could possibly manage until the end of his play until one snapped. “You know who to thank for that one.”

Some more exaggerated pleads of paper pressurizing, however its source from the limbless figure responsible for doing so less than necessary to comprehend over everyone’s simultaneous thoughts and longings of the leading situation. All had been there already, and little enough had been seen to know at least one wouldn’t be too keen on letting such a jumble fly by without pulverization and rebuttal of the very same words. Whether the source of such notions even recognized his doings remained in responsibility of much contemplation.

“Up next we gotta Traffic Light Girls here, make way.”

That was one question answered, at least.

“‘I don’t think those three girls are very bad like some people say,’” he began in a babying tone unlike any seen from time in the room and beyond. An icy touch appeared the sole offset keeping the three still in place. “‘I think some people like Francisca the most but I don’t know why. I like them all. But they don’t ever want to talk to me.’”

Fate was obvious, inevitable, yet none could even dare look away from the increasing grumble of the seat thankfully unoccupied by none unwarranted in any the three’s visions. Cold, one hand, airy the other, and somehow, even her own beret felt the necessitation to remain so calm atop her head. Unbreakable, either the bodies of indirect attention’s spirit thrived, and a bored sigh slipped unnoticed from behind.

“I don’t gotta preference to any of ya’.” He still didn’t take the hint and spun around for none to notice. “But I also don’t take Kirbs’ words to be the most reliable here, so don’t get too knotty ‘bout what each of ya’s got going for yerself.”

Anticipation continued steady reign over perception, loafing about to content until realization that it couldn’t compete with next action arose. Much, much too late, already widespread knowledge, its futile efforts to continue arrangements over the next wary voice came to sole conclusion in a half-asleep bundle near the front row, all his hands spread onto the nearby seats for case of none deciding to consider such an move.

“Marx, don’t you think you should maybe just quiet down?” Adeliene indiscreetly whispered. An effort was made, at least.

“Well whaddya mean?” He finally distanced his eyes from ignorance and glanced toward the barely constrained trio of girls, an appearance leaning more so toward concern of possible rage than any sort of care for disdain spoken toward them. “Hey, you gals hungry over there or somethin’?” he called from the opposite end of the room, but none seemed to notice.

“Ms. Flamberge, please,” her sister began coolly. “This is not the time for an outrage.”

“But...” her voice trailed without direction, the merest word signifying so much incomprehension of her feeling that not even appearance lay necessary for understanding. “You heard him!”

“Yes, but please save this for after the performance.” Her hand winced above the arbitrary jolt just beneath. “He deserves the same, nonetheless.”

She peeked beyond the imperfect restraint to vision that was the face before her, but he appeared too tired to notice any more than whether his sleep schedule was to be interrupted any time in the near future. Gooey popped his face out just beside within moments, leaving both in a futile staring competition as eyes literally rolled.

“‘Right, you done chitterin’ over there? I’m kinda wanna get goin’ soon.”

A slight nudge of Francisca’s hand barely offset her visible multiplier of searing intent, and her head sagged slightly. The two exchanged a glance, and her expression dropped.

“Cool cool. Next we got up, uh...” His direction seemed bare, yet his own face couldn’t move after the situation just occurred. “Susie,” he said plainly. “Sorry, I don’t got nothin’ with yer name.”

For the one other he dreaded seeing have Marx’s shenanigans interfere with, at least his futile hopes had been settled. An incredible feat of indistinct accomplishment of some of the universe’s own sense of luck, but something to be grateful for, nonetheless. Still, though, why she’d even decided to come in the first place...

His throat cleared twice, likely just for attention from those who still remained in disbelief at her appearance at all. “‘I haven’t seen Susie for a long time, but I hope I can soon.’” He paused, licked his teeth, and let his gaze wander. Ahead—beside, relative himself—her own eyes remained stiff. “‘I like how her hair is the same color as me but I don’t think she noticed. Last time I saw her I don’t think she saw me but next time I want to tell her something.’”

Still, she lay unfazed.

“‘I don’t want to make her nervous to give me an answer but I want to ask her to give me a big hug next time we see each other.’”

Suddenly, she didn’t. Offset by whatever, but next anyone knew, she couldn’t hold a steady gaze forward any better than the chair she sat on, and a quaver soon joined the successfully freed breath of hers. Despite preceding moments’ intense viewpoint laid out for everyone, it didn’t appear likely one could recognize anything of her but how inaccurately she portrayed her usual stance.

“You embarrassed or something? Didn’t mean nothing, was just reading off what’s here.”

Her hyperventilation slowly subsided to a disbelieving repetition of puffs. “No... I am experiencing no such feeling.”

Several breaths more quieted the room to a standstill, save a distant slump of expected, yet unnoticed origin. Still, despite how he’d known her in the past for reasons highly unnecessary to call back to one more time, it seemed to surreal considering her just a regular being such as anyone else. Should she so much misstep a word or two, it’d seem to anyone that’d known her prior as an endless explosion of so many disregarded thoughts of anything relating to her mere presence. Just another nervous breath it pleaded to be, but even alone it brought distress to all still daring a refusal to turn away.

Again, fraught silence, a battle continuously clashed against her frail whispers of air, somewhere so far off the battlefield, a slight snore spectating lazily. The mere sight, despite known to continue opportunity little longer due to silence’s greatest threat, managed a surefire encryption in any memory the noise happened to come across—endless in such a situation, yet even the slight expectation within reaches of unsubtly couldn’t compete with the laze and soon delays of her noise.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Think he says that about everyone, so it ain’t really anything to knock yourself out over.” A sole set of eyes took it upon themselves to avert attention, though the brief moment without realization of many’s following quickly reverted the momentary change. “Y’know, actually, I’m not so sure ‘bout, like, Flame-Bird or‘owever you say it, she ain’t the type to really get along well with him.”

The time was inevitable, of course...

“ _What_?”

And it was probably best to step back at least until the other side of the room. Beside Gooey—since he’d already prepared for the time to come—if his own feet would let him, but whatever else his subconscious had planned also sounded like a good idea.

“G—ah!” He leapt almost as high as the stand itself, he could’ve sworn, and before even reassembling with the ground, his face had darted out the room faster than any merer prankster could’ve imagined seeing in any given lifetime. “Don’t hurt me!” he called out playfully, the hard steps and distant shouts reverberating all the way back inside.

Finally, after a bounced crash against a distant wall, a true silence, yet it didn’t appear many were left much usuality after all had concluded. Two dreaded voices gone, yes, yet such a simple interaction left much troubled holds for confusion, deterred from all to the fleetly jolted one woken just a moment ago, calm annoyance, prevalent on the one beside him, and otherwise blankness, cautioned all else’s any emotion nonexistent from lack of comprehension.

Taranza muttered something groggily, took a glance around to a few stares, the empty stage ahead, behind to him, then drowsily strutted out the already silent doorframe. Gooey was quick to follow, another step soon joining, and even the seat beside emptied it’s egg off to the outside world, though at least with the generosity of a sigh and nudge conscious beforehand.

All alone, he’d soon turn to be. With... company, if he could call her that, but just the slight look around, despite the hard color still glaring off her cheeks, it seemed so peculiar staring out into the nothingness of benches ahead and chairs some distance beside, an entire transformed world before him filled to the brim of some lesser extent of despair, yet nothing could deter him from the wonderland set just before. Unwillingness, threat, both and himself knew well the cause lay beheld to a strange aura set somewhere before, beyond whatever scope of the room kept him static, yet even a movement couldn’t be detected if pushing an attempt to its feared limits.

Stood up, and nothing changed except the sworn presence of absent air. Cold, freezing, even, heat’s complement refused any sort of assistance, and his own bandana couldn’t help but remain mystified at all lying above, distant travelers meant solely to distort one’s mind should a trip not be taken elsewhere. Mystified, enthralled, the true word for whatever his condition proved lay beyond impossible to comprehend of the ordinary environment.

A step forward, then another, feet working for him, yet refusing to alongside, and soon came momentary realization. It struck incredibly, hard enough to rupture his any sense of stability and comfort as his form soon lifted just barely into the air, warmth and a decent squeeze soon following.

Set back onto the ground, he couldn’t even bear to consider the familiar ghost just behind, having so much energy in the most unexpected action of her that she might as well have turned to be an amalgamation of all others’ cuddly natures combined to one, and he’d be even less surprised than what truth consistently reminded of.

She shushed him gently, frail breaths subconsciously following order for some fear of misstep. “None are ever to hold knowledge of this occurrence,” she whispered, leaving by a giggle and trail of bright pink soon departing his own stature, limp and readied to collapse in the alternate universe surrounding.

An incomprehensible mess, it’d become.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey looksies, here's a fandom with 1K words under its tag now.
> 
> uh huh


End file.
